Disclaimer: No ownership over any concepts or plots expressed in this work of fiction is stated or implied. The author intends no financial gain from the distribution of this material and makes no claim of copyright or trademark.
S
Shinji awoke to the lilting song of summer birds and the atonal screech of Asuka demanding the bathroom from Misato. He immediately flicked his eyes closed again and willed himself to sleep, but sleep did not come. Though he may have been bulletproof, the sound of a cat fight outside his door was more than enough to fight off any hope of catching the last few moments of rest before his alarm clock went off. He drew in a breath and waited, listening to the wires in the clock radio warm as the speaker let out the first blaring squeal.
"Are you done yet?" Asuka shouted.
"No!" Misato sang back, obvious glee in her voice. "Hey, can I use your shampoo?"
"What? No!"
"I'm using your shampoo!"
Shinji groaned and jumped to his feet. He silenced the alarm with a tap and stretched. He still had yet to get used to waking up without feeling groggy or tired. He was beginning to think any sleep he got was more out of habit than necessity, and he was beginning to forget to eat, too. He made a point of looking about for food as he made his way into the kitchen. Asuka ignored him as he walked barefoot across the cold floor. She stood in her pajamas in a commanding pose, fists on hips, back squared, her hair fluffed up like the plumage of some kind of tropical bird.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Aren't you going to make breakfast? I don't want any seaweed or whatever this time, either."
Shinji shrugged by way of reply, and started heating a frying pan. When she turned away he lifted his glasses and gave it a quick burst of heat, then tossed a pat of butter onto it with the edge of the knife. Pen-Pen watched him, head tilted in a sort of bemused attachment. The bird watched as he swirled the butter around the insides of the pan, melting it, then trundled over to the refrigerator and returned with the egg carton under one wing and a can of fish under the other. Shinji nodded appreciatively and opened the can, actually using the can opener this time, and dumped out his morning meal.
Asuka walked over to him. "Eggs?"
He nodded.
"Over easy?"
He nodded again.
"Better than seaweed," she mumbled, heading for the refrigerator.
When she turned her back, he quickly plucked two eggs from the carton, took them between his fingers, cracked them, and plopped them into the pan in a quick, easy motion, then tossed the shells in the compost bin. He sighed as he watched the eggs sizzle around the edges. Pen-Pen started gulping fish down in great sloppy beak-fulls. There was a quiet tempo to it all, and it surprised him how common, how ordinary it all felt. The only element of place was Asuka. His eye kept wandering to her.
She had on an oversized t-shirt, yellow. It must have been a favorite color of hers, since she seemed to wear it a lot. An oversized t-shirt and jeans that were cut off so short they might as well not have had legs. She stood with her heels together and bent at the waist while she rummaged in the refrigerator, and Shinji found himself studying the tightening of her hamstrings and the pale skin of the small of her back, exposed as the hem of her shirt slipped forward.
She stood up with a can of soda and he started in surprise. He recovered quickly, turning the sudden movement into a flourish with the frying pan. The eggs tumbled through the air and landed neatly back in the pan, yolks unbroken. Asuka was unimpressed.
"What were you-"
Pen-Pen, at that moment, barreled into her legs, the egg carton tucked under his wing. He let out an angry, throaty wark and went about putting the eggs back in place. Asuka muttered something about a stupid bird and sat down at the table, kicking her bare feet back and forth in front of her chair as she sat idle. The balls of her feet made tiny squeaking sounds on the kitchen floor.
Shinji plated the eggs and put them in front of her.
"Where's my toast, washout?"
"Oh," said Shinji.
He handed her a fork, grabbed the toaster, and quickly flipped the push-tab to mock the sound of toast popping up. He plucked a pair of bread slices from the bread box, fanned them in his fingers like playing cards, and gave each a quick pulse over the rim of his glasses, then dropped them onto her plate.
"Perfect," she mused, ramming the crust of the bread into her eggs.
Misato chose that moment to appear in the kitchen, swaddled in a variety of towels. Held in one hand was a school uniform under a plastic bag. Asuka eyed it as if it were a thing alive, and batted at the hem with her hand.
"I told you, I am not wearing that."
"I think you'll look good in it," Misato smirked. She grabbed the skirt and wiggled it for emphasis.
"It's stupid," she snapped through a mouthful of toast. "What pervert came up with that?"
"You'll look good in it. Won't she, Shinji?"
He froze. "I-"
"Of course he agrees with you. He is a pervert. How else could he stand living with you?"
Misato snorted. "Whatever. Bathroom's open. Now where's my beer?"
Asuka took a final bite and jumped to her feet. "I called it."
Shinji took her plate as she left without thanking him.
"She will look cute in that uniform," said Misato.
"Wark," said Pen-Pen.
"You'd better get ready when she gets out of the shower. You're walking her to school."
Shinji groaned.
Kaji was a little nervous.
There was something innately uncomfortable about disguising one's self in a bright orange jumpsuit. Yet, there was no real alternative. He didn't stick out like a sore thumb, being far from the only Japanese present at the Munich branch, but he felt a deep pang of fear at every lingering glance, at every hesitation, at every subtle movement of his eyes betraying unfamiliarity with these halls. He was about to steal what was, arguably, the most valuable object in the entire world, a tissue sample of the creature from which the Evangelions were cloned, a sample of the tissue from the First Angel that landed in Antarctica in 1999. He had no leads on the nature of the Second Angel yet, where and when it had appeared and how its attack had been thwarted with the Eva program in its infancy, but the reward for his risk today would be the chance to learn that information from the beating heart of Nerv, the Tokyo-3 facility. He would transfer with Unit Two in a few days, beginning the arduous journey to the other side of the world, and with it he would carry his bargaining chip.
Right now, though, the thought foremost and heaviest in his mind was that ancient terror of all spies, voiced simply as I can't believe I'm doing this. He focused, hard, on not glancing at his name tag as he walked into the elevator with another half dozen men in identical suits. A major part of the spy game was what they call social engineering, or to put it in less obtuse terms, the carefully practiced art of appearing that you belong wherever you are, so no one pays attention to you. Most people think of spies as action heroes with gadgets, fast cars, and fast women, but the exact opposite was true. The meat of spy work was being so innocuous no one would bother looking at you, which, oddly, required being just suspicious enough that you weren't obviously hiding something.
It was to that end that he coughed and looked at his watch.
The man next to him, a big Swede, glanced over at him. "Nervous?"
"Yes," said Kaji. "My wife is ill, and the Company won't let me transfer back to Japan."
The Swede considered that for a moment, then chuckled. "Slavedrivers, they are, the bastards."
Kaji nodded, grinned, and sighed theatrically as he directed his gaze at his feet. He waited as the elevator car slid from stop to stop, disgorging the men inside in twos and threes. He checked his watch again, making sure the time was right. He was relaying on a number of factors, most importantly that Gendo Ikari would benefit more from this theft than from deliberately exposing him to curry favor with his superiors in Seele. There was a non-zero chance that he would end up standing in place like an idiot while large men with guns appeared from everywhere at once.
The blood-red second hand on his watch tick-ticked, and when it hit the twelve, the lights went out with a great thump of opening circuits. He took a breath, reached into his jumpsuit, and retrieved the pair of night-vision goggles he'd stored there. The virus would give him three minutes without power to make the extraction, and he had to be quick. He ducked along the wall through the Evangelion cage where the first Mass Produced unit was being built.
Looking at it was a mistake.
It hunched forward, a great red-lipped mouth filled with razor teeth. It seemed more alive than the others, and by far less cosmetic, the disgusting thing that lived inside the armor closer to the surface than in the prior Production Model. Seele was never intending to build an army of Unit Twos, he knew that, but to see this thing in its great iron prison, shackled to the wall with honest-to-God chains, filled him with dread. Biological though it was, they were building it in the truest sense of the word, and patches of its pale skin were horrid, bloodless open sores of white flesh where it hadn't finished growing yet. Its right arm was just a stump, the flesh slowly working its way out from the shoulder joint over a white-sheathed internal structure of artificial bones. It looked like its arm had been taken and flayed apart, revealing the skeleton and thin strands of wet nerve tissue underneath, livid and repellent.
He pulled the brim down over his cap and went on, trying to make up the time he'd lost gaping at the thing. There was another cage between him and the prize. This one was empty, and to his surprise, brightly lit. He had to pull his goggles off to pass through it, and when he did, he saw why. The entire room was a giant solar collector, a series of mirrors spiraling sunlight from outside down into it, bathing everything in a harsh, weirdly artificial glare. It was overcast outside; he realized with a start that if it had been a sunny day, he'd practically need a welder's mask to take the intensity of the sunlight in here.
The vault was on the other side. He was close. He didn't dare carry the combination inscribed on a piece of paper, since if he'd been discovered, they would recognize it. The vault was surprisingly small and surprisingly plain. He expected a complex system of redundancies, maybe a dedicated power supply and a keypad, but the damn thing had an actual mechanical dial. The process of dialing in ten numbers was cumbersome, but it worked. The handle turned, and the vault door moved on light hinges, not much bigger than a standard door in any house. Inside, at the far end of the dim interior of the vault, was a small box, not much bigger than his fist. He swallowed in anticipation, found his mouth dry, and reached for it with trembling hands, then froze.
There was something odd about the metal interior of the vault. The color was off. The surface was tarnished, and where it was clean, a bluish white that didn't look like steel at all. He almost touched the metal and froze, suddenly holding his breath. He wasn't in some impenetrable vault of layered steel. He was in a room made entirely out of lead.
Radiation shielding.
He swallowed again, and began to feel his lungs burn. He took the box from the pedestal, and wasn't surprised at all by its weight. It was coated in rubber, probably to protect whoever handled it from exposure to the lead itself. It was an innocuous thing, unremarkable in appearance. He made sure it was securely latched; it looked like it was meant to split in half, sealed with a rubber o-ring and clamped down tight, probably airtight. It had never occurred to him that the thing would be radioactive. He realized now why Ikari had set this up; it would be easy to hide radioactive materials on a voyage by nuclear powered aircraft carrier.
He glanced at his watch again and realized he was running out of time. The box was small enough that he could palm it, and he did so, afraid it would visibly drag on his covealls if he put it in his pocket. He headed out into the brightly lit, cavernous cage, and towards the pre-planned escape route that would get him out of the complex before anyone notice his precious cargo was gone.
Ritsuko found herself unnerved often in her work. It seemed that coming across things no one should know was a condition of her employment, and it took a grand effort, fueled by coffee and cigarettes, to keep it going. In truth, she had no idea which was more disconcerting, that the Commander was in unusually high spirits this morning, or Rei. Standing in an empty, blank hospital room, she decided that the crimson-eyed albino was the more disturbing of the two. As she approached the girl's hospital room, she shivered involuntarily. A farcical pretend examination was required to maintain the ruse that she was injured. She had many reasons to avoid it, first and foremost overseeing the continuing repairs to Unit One.
The girl fixed her gaze on Ritsuko.
"Doctor Akagi."
"Rei. How are you feeling today?"
"I am uninjured. I should leave now."
Ritsuko sighed. "Not until next week."
Closing the door behind her, Ritsuko walked into the room. She had to spend at least ten minutes in here, to make it seem as if she were actually checking on Rei's condition. The tittering nurses outside annoyed her. It was surprising how the highest of security clearances didn't preclude a total lack of maturity. Rei was sitting up in her hospital gown, her arm slung in the fake sling. Around her was a fan of printed paper sheets, carefully cut into strips and shapes with a pair of scissors. Ritsuko tilted her head; for the last few days, the girl had been doing nothing but staring at the walls.
"What is that?"
"I am collating."
"Collating what?"
Rei paused in mid-cut, looking up through the fringe of her hair. "Information."
"What information?"
She looked guarded, almost embarrassed. "Information about Superman."
Ritsuko started. "How did you…"
"It was on television. I asked the nurses for the newspapers."
"They gave them to you," Ritsuko said flatly. "I see."
Rei apparently saw no further possibilities in the conversation and went back to smoothly cutting the strip of paper free from the page. She worked the scissors deftly one-handed, using her ring finger and pinky to turn the page under her hand as she cut. When she had the article she was collecting free, she picked it up and put it on the stack with the others, and then began flipping through the rest of the pages.
"Why?"
She stopped again, without looking up.
"Why what?"
"Why are you doing… that."
Rei looked up at her. "I do not know."
There was a moment of silence between them. Ritsuko heard the sound of the air conditioner pumping air into the room, felt the weight of her lab coat on her shoulders and the too-smooth texture of the clipboard in her hand. The longer she stood there, the more she found herself locked in Rei's gaze, drawn into her crimson eyes. She shook her head to distract herself from it.
"Should I stop?"
"Do what you want."
"Yes," said Rei. "I will."
"I think you should put that away, now. The Commander will be here to see you later…" she trailed off.
In the wastebasket beside the bed was a shattered vase, a cheap one of the sort one buys for too much money in hospital gift shops. A few wilted flowers lay in the bottom, stuck to the metal where the water that had once soaked them had dried. Ritsuko craned to look down into the canister.
"What is that?"
"Flowers."
"Why are they in there?"
"The staff avoid me."
"No, I mean, where did they come from?"
"Shinji gave them to me."
Ritsuko arched an eyebrow.
"You threw them away?"
"No. The Commander did. He said I do not need them."
"Oh. I suppose you don't, then."
Ritsuko glanced at her watch. It had been long enough. Without further comment, she strode out of the room and pulled the door tightly closed behind her. She heard the old television set on the wall thunk to life, and the sound of talking. Rei had turned on the news. Without quite knowing why, Ritsuko leaned against the door and shivered. There was something in her eyes, something new.
Asuka was trying to approach the situation clinically, to avoid giving into the animalistic fury welling deep within her. She wanted to start screaming. She felt both overencumbered and overexposed in the ridiculous uniform they had her wearing, a stuffy starched shirt with a ribbon tied around her neck and a perversely short skirt. She looked like she was wearing some sort of fetish costume, and the stares she got from a few salarymen trundling to their train stops in the morning heat only infuriated her further. Only the conspicuous swarm of security goons trailing her and Shinji kept her from unleashing her fury on the nearest available outlet. For his part, Shinji was useless. His idea of "walking her to school" appeared to be following a few steps behind her, staring at the ground and nervously glancing at the alleys and doorways they passed as if he expected something to leap out and swallow him.
It amazed her how his demeanor had shifted from the first night she was in Tokyo-3, the way he swaggered into the apartment and seemed so at ease, so comfortable in his own skin. Now he managed to fidget even while walking, exuding an air of pathetic banality that oozed out of his very pores. He shifted his backpack over his shoulders as if the weight bothered him and awkwardly tried to settle into position next to her as they boarded the train. The security men ghosted into position around the doors and windows. They probably had snipers watching her. It was ridiculous. Something about the situation caught her eye, though. Shinji somehow seemed to pick them out even more easily than she did, weigh them up, and shy away from them. His eyes naturally fell to the bulges under their coats where they wore shoulder holsters. It seemed peculiar, since he'd had no training at all. Who had taught him to-
The wave of molten fury that flowed through her actually managed to outrun the sensation of fingers closing around her rear end. The man standing next to her idly looked away while he got in a good squeeze, cupping her and lifting with his fingers for full effect. Asuka shrieked and wriggled loose, spinning in the tight quarters of the train. Shinji stared, dumbstruck, eyes so wide they looked to fall out behind his glasses. Once the initial shock faded, Asuka 's training kicked in. She flicked her arms out, used her unusual height to her advantage, and laced her fingers together two-by-two behind the chubby interloper's neck. In the same motion she brought her knee up into her solar plexus, let her leg drop, and tightened her toes as she thrust the thin ridge of her shin upwards between his legs.
Her assailant's startled cry drew the security men. Four of them melted through the crush of people like fish through water and had the man who grabbed her by his arms and under his shoulders. With surprising speed, he was hauled off his feet and dragged through the crowd and to the edge of the train. Asuka felt a feral grin split her lips as she heard the thump of a heavy fist into his gut, although he was probably feeling her blow more than anyone else's. She stood a bit taller and glanced around the train, as if to say, anyone else want some?
"W-what was that?"
"The groping fee," said Asuka. "I will strike down anyone who dares touch my person. Remember that, Washout."
Shinji swallowed hard, and glanced over his shoulder. She could have sworn there was a look of pity on his face. There was another thump and he tensed, visibly.
"Don't tell me you feel sorry for that letch!"
"He…" Shinji trailed off. "What he did was wrong, but he doesn't deserve to be hurt like that."
Asuka's eyes narrowed. "So you'd just let him grope me, then?"
"No! I wouldn't-"
She smirked and leaned closer to him. "Oh, so you'd defend my honor."
She straightened with a snort. "Right. What are you going to do, be pathetic at him?"
"Sorry," said Shinji.
The doors opened and the throng parted to let her go. There was another detail ready to meet her at the next platform, all hunched shoulders and thick necks in dark suits and sunglasses. She smiled brightly at the attention, feeling like the queen she was, arguably the most valuable person in the world until another Child was identified and trained. Birds chirped. The air was clean and fresh, even if it was hot.
She didn't hear the shot. You never hear the one that gets you. She jumped in surprise, though, as the crack finally caught up to her. She heard a tiny tink-tink sound on the pavement in front of her, and saw the pristine bullet rolling to the patent leather of her shoe, as if someone had plucked it from the cartridge and dropped it there. The chest of the agent closest to her bloomed with bright red blood, rolling paradoxically outward as he went backwards, bending at the waist. Three men were running at her with guns. The security detail was shouting. One of them pulled Shinji away from her and shoved him aside. She thought she saw him fall off the platform, but was quickly distracted as the barrel of a gun met her face.
Then, there was a wind.
No, not a wind. A blur of motion.
She heard a curious sound, the squealing cry of metal folding over itself. A ball of sundry gun parts dropped on the pavement with a thunk and rolled until a protruding bit of barrel stopped it, and it came to rest. She didn't remember falling to her knees, was suddenly aware of the sharp pain of scraped skin. She was clutching her chest. Her heart was pounding, trying to beat its way through her ribs. For a moment, she thought she'd been shot herself. Then she heard the sound. Click after click after click, flashes drowned in the morning sun. Phones. Cameras.
Superman stood over her wounded guard, his attention turned from the three men now bound with their belts tightly looped and knotted around their wrists in ankles, tied in a small circle. He leaned down and then stood back up and looked into the crowd.
"What are you doing? This man is hurt. Call an ambulance!"
His words seemed different than before. Clearer. He didn't sound the same as he did on the plane, as if he'd grown into his own voice. His call rolled over the platform and suddenly the phones taking his picture were pressed to ears as a shouting cacophony of people called for help.
He reached down and took her around the waist and helped her stand. She put her hands on his chest instinctively to steady herself. It stunned her how warm he was, how the tight muscles under his weird shirt felt warm, human. She blinked.
"Miss? Are you okay?"
"Get away from her!"
The security men came charging at her, two or three peeling off for their wounded comrade. Superman started in surprise. A hand clamped around his upper arm and he looked shocked, but at ease. There was an instant of tension as the guard stared at him, and he was reflected back in the sunglasses the man wore.
"What are you, stupid?" Asuka snapped.
Superman pulled his arm free. It was a gentle motion, harmless, the way an adult withdraws their hand from a child's grasp. His feet stopped touching the ground and he lifted up into the air, and he was gone. Asuka stood there, shaking.
"We're driving you to school. The car is this way. Let's go."
She walked in a daze. "Wait, where's-"
"Here," said Shinji raising his hands in surrender as he approached the guards ringing her. "I went to get help."
"I'll bet you did. Just abandoned me like that," Asuka snapped.
"Sorry," said Shinji. "Are you okay?"
Her fingers were trembling. Her knees her from when she'd fallen, and her heart was still fluttering. She swallowed, and her throat was suddenly dry.
"I-I'm fine," she said, her brows scrunching as she realized what happened.
Someone tried to kill her. She suddenly found herself floating along, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Her world was a ring of beefy bodies in black suits, but it seemed thin protection if someone meant to do her harm. They ushered her to a long black sedan, opened the door for her, and all but pushed her inside. Shinji sat down next to her, across a narrow field of carpet from a Section 2 man facing the opposite direction. Shinji blinked nervously and adjusted his glasses.
He dropped his backpack on the floor and opened it up. To her surprise, he pulled out a first aid kit in a small white case, laid it on the seat next to him, and opened it up. He fished out pack of sterile wipes and held the package in his lips while he took out some other things and laid them aside.
"What are you doing?"
"Your legs," he mumbled, gesturing at her knees.
"Oh."
"Um," he said, "your skirt is kind of…"
Absently, she slid the starched fabric up over her knees. Gently, he opened the first pack of sterile wipes and, cupping her calf in one hand, gently wiped the scrape clean. His hands were shaking, and he stopped to steady himself a few times. Once he'd disinfected the cuts, he carefully bandaged them with sterile pads and gauze. As he ministered to her wounds, she leaned back in the seat, suddenly tired as the wave of adrenaline reached its peak and receded, like a great wave crashing on rocks and then washing back. Her breathing slowed and she started trembling harder. There was something soothing in the way Shinji attended to her, the way he touched her like she was made out of glass. When he was done he adjusted her skirt to hang naturally over her legs and started putting his things away.
She turned to him and caught the corner of his eye as he fumbled around in his backpack. He slowed, almost expectantly. He winced, as if expecting a reprimand.
"Thank you."
Misato walked into her office, coffee in hand but longing for beer, to find Yoshida sitting in her desk. It was as if a gorilla had snuck into her office and seated himself in her creaking task chair. She already felt like a secretary, and had little tolerance for this further insult. She was about to unload on him for his presumption when he cut her off.
"Ten minutes ago, there was an attempt on the Second Child's life."
Misato blinked. "What-"
"It was clever. An advance man groped her on the train, so the other three would know which car she was on. They took a pot shot and ran at her with guns after her and that other kid stepped off the train."
"Shit," said Misato.
"I hope, at this point, you're prepared to reconsider your ridiculous insistence that she attend the high school."
Misato's eyes narrowed. "Does the Commander still plan to have Rei attend?"
"That isn't your-"
"Yes it is, I'm the operations director and the pilots are my direct subordinates. You're not telling me something."
"Fortunately," said Yoshida, skipping the subject, "the MAGI system was anticipating an influx of photographs and censored them all. This so-called Superman was there. He intervened."
"You mean he saved her life."
"That's one way of looking at it."
"I want every available agent on the school. Did you secure her?"
"Done and done," said Yoshida, standing. "On my authority. I don't take orders from you. You're a slob, Katusragi."
Misato stiffened. "Will there be anything else, Section Chief?"
"Yes. The Secretary-General of the United Nations is here to see you."
Misato blinked. "What?"
Yoshida stomped out of the room with a smug grin plastered across his face, brushing her aside. Misato was barely able to contain the coffee slurping over the side of her mug, and yelped as it stung her fingers. She hurriedly put the cup down on a random stack of papers to soak up the spill, then cleaned her hand of on yet another sheet, and ended up smearing her hand with ink. She set about furiously trying to make the random pile of papers on her desk look somewhat presentable when the nominal leader of the free world walked into her office. Misato stiffened, and then bowed.
"Madam Secretary."
The Secretary-General of the United Nations was a short, prim, elderly woman in a conservative suit, whose steel gray hair was tightly drawn into a bun, pulling her tanned face tight into a perpetual expression of shock. Misato swallowed. The woman hadn't travelled far, as the new seat of the UN was in the capital, Tokyo-2; New York was destroyed in Second Impact. Despite this, Secretary Nakashima was scowling in annoyance, and Misato felt as if she were being reproached by her grandmother.
"You are apparently the highest ranking officer of this organization who will speak to me."
"Um," said Misato. "The Commander is very busy, and-"
"So I'm told," said the Secretary. "As is the Sub-Commander. Too busy to see me for the last week, it seems. Hopefully I can get the information I need from you."
Misato locked her face into her best professional smile. "I hope I can be of service."
The Secretary-General's eyes narrowed, and she paced around Misato's desk, as if performing an inspection. She lifted up a few stacks of papers, glancing at the numbers and graphs. Misato coughed. "That material is-"
"Classified, I know. I'm aware my authority is window dressing for the Human Instrumentality Committee, Captain. There's no need to rub it in my face. I have a Security Council breathing down my neck, demanding answers. The Americans think you're developing some kind of super-soldier program using Evangelion technology."
Misato dumped a pile of papers from a side chair and offered to her. She dismissed it with a wave, and folded her arms.
"Well?"
"The truth," said Misato, "is that we are-"
"Spare me. What exactly is your function here, Captain?"
"I'm the Operations Director."
"That doesn't help me."
"I direct combat operations, oversee combat readiness, see to the health and welfare of the pilots. May I be frank?"
"Go ahead."
Misato shrugged. "We don't know who he is, where he comes from, or what his capabilities are. He just showed up, and no one here had any idea he was coming. We have some theories about how he can fly and manipulate huge weights, but they're all based in what we know about the angels, which is really just guesswork."
"I see," said the Secretary-General. "Speaking of the health and welfare of your pilots. I heard what that man was talking to you about. Is there anything we can do? I can pass your concerns to the Japanese government, if you like?"
Misato shook her head. "Our own internal security will handle it, but thank you."
"I see. If you do discover something-"
"We'll disseminate any important information through appropriate channels."
"I suppose that's the best you can do. Goodbye, Captain."
Shinji tried his best to look as though he weren't looking in every direction at once, which he was. He craned his neck and stood on tip-toe to look over Asuka's head as they stepped out of the Nerv staff car, looking everywhere at once and through everything at once. There was nothing that looked threatening in the immediate area, and more men in black suits and sunglasses had already swarmed around the school. Speaking of swarms, there was a gaggle of students watching him- no, they were watching Asuka as she clenched her teeth and walked up the front steps to the school. Shinji sprinted up to her side, taking the steps two at a time.
"You don't have to do this."
She rounded on him. "Do what?"
He lowered his voice. "Go to school. If we call Misato she'll-"
"I am not calling for help," Asuka hissed. "I am going to school."
"I thought you didn't want-"
"That," she snapped, "is not the point."
He sighed. "I just… if you wanted to go home after what happened, I think she'd understand."
She poked his collarbone for emphasis. "I am not going to run away, do you understand me? I am not going to run off and hide."
"I…" he trailed off. "Sorry."
She snorted, turned her nose up at him, and stomped into the school as if she were going to face a hostile beachhead. The students in front of the doors parted to let her pass, and he almost called after her, wanting to warn her about picking up the folder and laptop, but his mouth clicked closed and he said nothing. He shouldered his bag, shoved his hands in his pockets, and started after her. Almost immediately, Toji and Kensuke appeared, walking on either side of him.
Toji elbowed him. "Hey, Shin-man. You didn't tell us you were getting married."
Shinji groaned.
"Who is she?" said Kensuke. "Why did the Nerv goons drive her here?"
"I tell you what," said Toji. "She's great to look at, but she ain't got much for her personality. She always like that?"
"Her name is Asuka," said Shinji, "give her some room. Someone tried to shoot her this morning."
"Wait," said Kensuke. "What?"
"What do ya mean, tried?" said Toji.
"Superman stopped-" Shinji muttered, embarrassed to use that ridiculous name.
They both grabbed his arms and stopped him in his tracks. He started in surprise. "What?"
"You saw him?" said Toji.
"Did you get a picture?" Kensuke said, almost hungrily.
"What? Why-"
"Because," said Kensuke. "There's a reward! A huge reward! More money than I'd ever make selling…" he trailed off.
"Selling what?"
"Nothin," said Toji.
Shinji arched an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothin," Toji repeated.
"We better get to class," said Kensuke.
Confused, Shinji followed them into the school, down the hallway. The air was already charged with excitement. There was a new student, and she was a fire-haired abrasive foreigner, not meek Shinji. Asuka was already striding triumphantly into the classroom, hands on hips. Shinji broke from the boys and rushed to her side as she looked around.
"Who's in charge here?"
Horaki came up to her, clipboard in hand, nose turned up, hair pulled up into pigtails like a commanding general's vestments. "I am. Did you turn in your folder and get your laptop?"
"My what?" said Asuka. "Why do I need… whatever. Washout, go do that for me."
Shinji sighed, and turned to go.
"Wait right there," said Hikari. "In my class, we treat fellow students with respect."
Shinji waited for the inevitable explosion, but it never arrived. Asuka visibly tensed, but as her eyes narrowed it was in appraisal, not an impending torrent of verbal punishment. She nodded curtly. "So, that's how it is."
"Yes," said Hikari. "I run a tight ship."
"Fine," said Asuka. "I'll go… do whatever it was you said. Washout, you're with me."
Shinji glanced at Hikari and she shrugged. They still had time. He walked behind Asuka as she walked through the halls, swiveling her hips from side to side in an exaggerated fashion. Several pairs of male eyes were yanked violently from other subjects of attention and followed her down the hall towards the office. For some reason, it was Shinji's cheeks that heated, and he felt an a subtle anger crawling up the back of his neck, like the beginnings of a tension headache. He trotted up to walk next to her and stood a little taller, forgetting his slouch. She glanced at him but said nothing, her blue eyes opaque.
It dawned on him that seeing through walls was nice, but reading minds would be even better.
When they reached the office, she looked at him expectantly.
"What 'folder', anyway?"
He slid his bag from his shoulder and fished around inside until he had the folder in question, picked up from the table where Asuka had ignored it. He handed it to her and she, in turn, handed it over to the secretary. A moment later the old woman thrust a laptop out at her, and Shinji carried it without being asked. They walked in silence back to the classroom. The halls were mostly empty now, and he felt more at easy, still glancing here and there looking for anything dangerous. They made it back just as Hikari finished her stand-bow-sit routine.
"Would you like to introduce yourself to the class? I didn't get your name."
"Of course," Asuka said sweetly, grinning.
She carried her laptop towards the back of the room, stopped, thought better of it, and put it in a seat near Hikari's, at the front of the classroom. When he made it to his own seat and sat down, Asuka had written her full name in flowing English script across the entire chalkboard, heedless of the teacher's intention to use it. The doddering old man sort of stared at her in confusion, probably thinking in his senile haze that an ambulatory fireball had walked into the classroom and commanded everyone's attention.
"I am Asuka Langley-Soryu," she announced in ringing tones. "The pilot of Evangelion Unit One."
Shinji almost dropped his own computer as he fumbled to pull it from his bag. Everything happened at once. Kensuke's heartrate tripled. A dragonfly buzzed past the open windows. Toji shot to his feet, shouting something that was drowned in the din of a chorus of similar questions, and he raised his voice, stepping up onto the chair of his desk. He waved his hands for attention, and Shinji could practically feel him drawing in a breath. He shouted so loudly it startled even Shinji, and the entire room turned to him.
"Do you know Superman?" he bellowed.
Shinji winced. The look on Asuka's face was somewhere between shock and incoherent rage. He could see her reddening already, her mouth drawn into a thin line. She got control of herself quickly, and stood stone still, blue eyes like ice chips focused on Toji. He slunk back down into his seat, squirming, and Shinji almost admired how she forced him down with her gaze alone. The room had suddenly gone quiet.
"Well," Hikari said awkwardly, "Welcome."
Asuka nodded primly and took her seat, folding her legs under the desk. She started setting up her laptop, and Shinji let out a long-held breath of relief. He kept scanning the windows, suddenly feeling more exposed than he could remember in a long time. Kensuke shook him out of it when he leaned over to him.
"Turn on your laptop and get in the chat!"
Wearily, Shinji complied, only to be greeted by a blinking message from Kensuke.
"Is she really an Eva pilot?"
Shinji sighed. "Yes. She really is. I don't think we're supposed to talk about it."
Toji's blinking icon came up. "Why is she such a bitch?"
Shinji shot him an angry glare. "She isn't. I told you she's not having a good day."
"Yeah." Toji typed.
The two boys left their private chat and logged into the general room, and Shinji followed. The screen was flowing so rapidly with questions Asuka couldn't answer them all. He glanced up and saw her furiously typing, her shoulders hunched in concentration, blazing eyes reflected on her screen. She almost looked happy, and yet there was a distant look in her expression, like she was putting it all on. She sat back and whispered to Hikari.
"Are they always like this with newcomers?"
"Well," Hikari whispered back, "you're a little unique, aren't you?"
Asuka grinned. Shinji almost felt relieved, and a tad ashamed for listening in on their conversation. Hearing everything around him was so natural, so ordinary that he thought little of it. He purposely focused on the general buzz of conversation in the room, letting the sounds mingle together into a general background drone. As he let his mind wander, he heard a curious sound, a sort of buzzing that flowed under the conversation. He sat bolt upright as the sound grew and flared out into a thin cry, and with a start he realized no one else in the room could hear it.
An instant later, the evacuation alarm sounded.
Asuka jumped up in a panic, slamming the lid of her laptop closed with a meaty thump. The Horaki girl stared at her in stunned shock, but quickly shook herself out of it and started shouting orders. Asuka ignored her and sprinted from the room, aching knees stinging her at every step. To her surprise, Shinji was behind her, somehow appearing the moment her attention was focused elsewhere, his backpack bouncing as he carried it, slung over his back. He kept pace with her easily, long strides matching hers step for step. A pair of Section 2 agents were waiting for them –no, for her— at the front door of the school. Misato's car was parked outside, and the woman herself was limping up the stairs.
"What are you doing here?" Asuka demanded.
"I heard what happened, and I came to check on you. I'll drive you in."
"Whatever," said Asuka. "Come on."
Shinji started to follow, and Misato put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay here. Get in the shelter with everyone else."
"But-"
"You heard me."
Asuka took the stairs two at a time, and was then forced to watch Misato limp to the car and slide in. The two agents ran for the staff car pulling up behind them, ignoring Shinji as he ran off, not back into the school but along the outer wall, ducking under the windows. Asuka craned her neck to follow his movement, confused, until he vanished around a corner. Where the hell was he going?
She didn't have time to give voice to her thoughts. Misato slammed the car into gear and growled at the anemic whine the engine offered when she shoved her foot down to the floor. The lumbering staff limousine kept pace easily as she made a half-hearted attempt at a sharp turn out of the parking lot. Misato was wrining what little performance out of the ugly hatchback she could, gritting her teeth as she concentrated. Asuka felt like she was floating. Her awareness of Misato's insane maneuvers was only information, a background sensation washed over by a wave of anticipation. This was it. It was finally real. She was going to fight an angel, for real. Her hands were shaking.
"Are you alright?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No," Misato said, thinly.
"I can do this."
"I know," Misato said calmly, grimacing as she was forced to slow to take a turn.
Finally, the alarm still droning in Asuka's ears, she closed her eyes as Misato pulled the car into the tram elevator that would carry them down into the Geofront. Relieved of the duty of driving, Misato could devote all of her attention to Asuka.
"Really, are you okay? I was going to pull you out of school…"
"I said, I'm fine."
Misato chewed her lip. "When Rei is ready for duty, I could arrange some downtime for-"
"Will you stop mothering me?" Asuka snapped.
"Sorry," Misato whispered.
They spent the rest of the ride in silence.
Toji knew he was in trouble when Kensuke grabbed his arm.
"Hey!"
"What?"
They were moving with the press of students to work their way into the shelter. The big metal doors yawned open at the rear of the school, leading under the hillside behind it. While they ran to gain access, the students slowed into a shuffling throng as they actually approached the doors. Hikari had turned into yet another hovering class representative, furiously ticking off names from her clipboard as she took attendance, walking around on her tip-toes to see over the boys' heads. Kensuke maneuvered Toji towards her.
"Ask her."
"What?"
"Tell her we need to go the bathroom."
"We? What, are you gonna hold it for me?"
"We need to get outside! The picture!"
"What picture?"
Kensuke shook his head. "Superman! He'll be out there! If we get a picture-"
Toji snorted "What's this 'we' shit?"
"I guess you don't want any of the money. Or fame. Just ask her. She likes you."
"She does not."
Kensuke gave him a mild shove, and he resentfully started working his way towards Hikari, muttering that he couldn't believe he was doing this. He made it close enough to shout at her.
"Hey! Class Rep!"
"Toji? I already marked-"
"We gotta use the bathroom!"
"What, now? Wait, we?"
"Really bad!"
She looked around in a panic. "Just hurry up, they're closing the shelter in a minute!"
Kensuke grinned, checked the settings on his camera, and darted off. Toji ruefully followed. They got a few looks as they maneuvered through the crowd, but no one actually objected. In a moment, they were outside. The evacuation alarm began to wind down, going from a steady drone to a petulant whine and then a low hum before petering out completely. Once it was gone, it left an eerie, almost heavy silence in its wake. The normal background noise of people, of human habitation, was gone, and Toji noticed its absence. It made him nervous, while it appeared to make Kensuke excited.
Until they saw the thing.
It was too big, too big just to be, and moved without apparent means of locomotion, snaking low along the horizon. The movement was unnatural, too fast and yet too slow. It looked like a blend of serpent and insect, its long exoskeleton body carrying a dangling, writing mass of spindly legs with too many joints, waving feebly at the air. The forward lengths of its great body resembled a battering ram, and hanging from it, curled on themselves, were glowing filaments, like the after-effects of a lightbulb just turned off. It made a strange almost-sound that Toji could feel more than hear, and it turned his stomach. He could see Kensuke starting to sweat.
"We should go back inside."
Kensuke ignored him, instead raising his camera. He clicked off the first short.
"Any minute," he whispered.
There was another alarm, higher, louder, more concentrated, from nearby. The creature reacted to it immediately, bending itself to change course. As Toji watched it he realized how huge it was, so much that it seemed closer than it actually was. One of the great slab-sided blocks of concrete and steel plate shielding that rose up when the city went into battle configuration stood in front of it, and rather than deigning to go around it, the creature reached out with its lashing light-whips and bisected it neatly, sending tumbling pieces gliding slowly to earth in a great gout of dust.
With a sound like twin gunshots, a pair of rails rocketed up out of the ground, followed a moment later by the robot, the Evangelion. It looked odd, with parts of its face and arm covered in unpainted, primer-gray plates that must have been repairs from the last battle. Unlike last time, as soon as it snapped into towering position, it ducked away from the exit point where it emerged and moved with a clinical, practiced efficiency, almost like a dancer. The grace and ease of its movements betrayed its size and made it seem unreal, unnatural, like a puppet.
Kensuke continued to snap pictures.
The Evangelion circled around the angel, which came to a slow, drifting hover, and they watched each other for the barest instant, sizing one another up. The Evangelion pulled a gigantic rifle out of a nearby building, aimed it, and opened fire. The shells hit the angel before the sound reached them, washing over Toji and Kensuke in a wave that made them stagger backwards. Kensuke said something in complaint over a ruined picture, but the sound was lost in the greater din. The shells exploded on the creature and it screamed, curling on itself, its cry unearthly and inhuman. Toji covered his ears. A cloud of black smoke enveloped it, and the two boys ended up standing stone-silent in the soundless void that came after.
"That's it?" said Kensuke.
Silent, and with purpose, the angel rocketed out of the cloud, the thick carapace of its back dented and cratered by the explosions. It rammed the Evangelion head-first, ripping the rifle away with its whips. The gun split, the mechanical innards of it falling out as it slid apart in two unbelievably cleanly cut pieces and crashed to earth with a great roar. Pushed back, the Evangelion slammed through one of the shield-walls, crumbling it, and onto its back. It rolled, almost got caught up in the umbilicus that trailed behind it, and reached up to grasp something unfolding from its shoulder-pylon. It became a knife.
"Uh," said Toji. "They're, uh, they're coming this way."
"One clear shot," said Kensuke, snapping more pictures.
The Evangelion circled around, and Toji breathed out, and then around again, and he breathed in. He put his hand on Kensuke's shoulder and started to pull him. The Evangelion charged, knife blade raised high, and plunged it into the creature's side. It wailed again, corded its whips around the robot's arms, and twisted. Toji whimpered, trying to comprehend over his mind's refusal to accept that something so big was moving so fast. The Evangelion pulled up off its feet and was thrust skyward, higher and higher, propelled by the angel's fury. A great shadow passed over them as it crossed the sun. Toji realized he was shouting. Kensuke was finally moving. The shadow slid past, crested the hillside, and vanished. A moment later the Evangelion came to earth, smashing the top of the hill like a child falling backwards onto a sandcastle. Toji looked up and saw a metal hand ten feet wide swinging down onto his head.
He grabbed Kensuke and, out of pure, futile instinct, curled the other boy around as if to shield him from the blow. The wind of the hand's fall brushed over his back, whipping his shirt, and he felt a cold, absolute insistence that his time was at an end. He closed his eyes. He took a breath, two, three, and fell on his rear end in the mud. He opened his eyes and looked up.
Superman was holding the hand over their heads. He didn't even strain.
"You again?"
Toji blinked.
"You should be inside, where it's safe. I wouldn't want that little sister of yours to lose her older brother."
"Y-yeah…" Toji stammered, "Yes, sir. Sorry."
"Go on, go. I'll take it from here."
Superman bounced on his heels, and pushed. The hand flopped up and then came down a few yards away, gouging a deep furrow in the earth, raising the smell of turned dirt and mud. Toji stood up and grabbed at Kensuke's shoulder, but the other boy was laughing, laughing so hard he looked like he would cry.
"I got it!"
No.
It was not going to win.
It was not going to beat her.
Misato was shouting something, ordering her to retreat. Asuka shouted something back, and wasn't sure if she'd formed words or was just snarling incoherently. She was going to kill this thing and she was going to win. She was an Evangelion pilot, the only one in the world. She was going to defeat the enemy and succeed. She was going to be good enough.
She was going to be good enough!
The angel came at her and she barely had time to swing the Eva's arms around and push herself to her feet. Unit One's interface was slower and clumsier than she was used to, its movements less precise and controlled than her Eva, as if she was trying to run underwater. The angel lashed out and cut flaming slices through the dirt beside her as the ponderously moved the machine away from where she lay. It seemed almost too easy, and she grinned. It was just a big bug. It missed her.
She heard a ringing chime and realized it hadn't missed. The battery timer appeared next to her head. The angel capitalized on the distraction, looped its coils around her leg. She felt a sudden sharp burning, lines of heat drawn around her calf as it pulled her feet out from under her, turned its entire body to torque the whips around, and hurled her back into the city. She was suddenly weightless, for the barest instant before she crashed through another shield wall and dug a furrow in the street. She felt someone's car crush under her palm as she stood up, and sprinted at the angel. As she moved she saw the battery drain faster from the strain, the timer suddenly skipping numbers as a young child skips stairs. She ignored it. She was going to have to end it, now, or she would be defenseless, unable to raise her protective field.
She ran through the angel's whips, feeling the white-hot wires racing along her chest and face as she pushed through, and caught it in a bear hug. She managed to drag it to the earth, mount it, and drive her Eva's knees into its belly. It cried out and grew frantic, whips lashing out wildly. She pushed it down, gouging her fingers into it, and she felt her stomach turn as the sensation of the Eva's fingers prying into cold, soft flesh from the thing's underbelly seeped into her hands. She realized she was wasting time, the core was there and she could see it, glowing red and gleaming beneath a thin membrane of tissue. One hand pushing it down, she used the other to grasp and pull back the flesh until the core was exposed, and raised her fist to pound on it.
She heard a thump, practically felt circuits opening. The sensation of synchronization, of piloting itself, fled from her, and she was suddenly floating half-limp in a cold amniotic void, just a bare inch above the seat in the plug. The timer read zero, and the auxiliary power gave her just enough energy to see and hear as the angel shoved her back. Limp, the Evangelion rolled onto its back, and the angel curled its whips around the Eva's body. She could no longer feel it, but she could actually smell it burning, and heard the crack as the whips tightened around the neck armor. It was trying to cut the Eva's head off, to exposed the entry plug. It was coming after her.
Not like this. Not like this, please, not like this.
Her hands were on the control yokes, and though they were gloved she knew her knuckles were white from the strain of her grip. She tugged at them feebly, a wave of childish indignation rising from her that the machine dared not respond, even absent the vital power it needed to move. She felt a burning in her eyes and bit her lip, and a gurgled cry of anguish wracked her.
"Not like this!"
There was a sound, then, a strange thing that shocked her from her fury and sent her falling back into the seat. Two heartbeats, thump-thump, like rolling thunder. For a moment she felt the twinge of almost-synch, but the sensation faded. She almost didn't realize what was happening. He was there, outside, standing on the Eva's neck, pulling at the white hot wire-whips. Him. Superman, again.
Her auxiliary power was almost out. She watched him tug, frantically, at the glowing lines. He stopped and stared at the palms of his hands, then redoubled his effort, pulling at the whips again. As the power died and the plug went dark, she could swear she saw him take it in his teeth.
"I must be crazy," Shinji stammered.
The whip-things, they hurt, they left his hands feeling raw, in a way he only dimly remembered from his youth. He didn't have much time. He took the first light-whip and pulled it tighter than it already was, pulled with all his might as he grasped it, tensed his back, and spread out his chest. When it would stretch no more, he leaned into it, put his teeth on it, and bit down.
It tasted like hell.
His mouth went numb, but it worked. There was a suddenly, joyous release of tension as the whip broke. It pulled back with a great cracking sound, and the segment left attached to Unit One instantly cooled, smoldering and smoking, cracking from the uneven change in its temperature. The other whip slid free, the tension released, and came at him. He dodged, forced to lift off from the Eva's chest as it tried to curl around him. The angel's vast attention turned to him, and he took off, drawing it away. It left Unit One lying in the crater it had made, and gave chase.
He was smaller, and faster. He had to use that. He turned in midair, sharp enough that the most maneuverable of fighter jets could snap in half, and the angel couldn't make the turn. He skirted between its still-functioning whip and the stump of the other and flew towards the glowing red sphere Asuka had exposed, already growing over with new flesh. He put both of his fists out, put his head down, and moved as fast as he could, willing himself to greater and greater speeds. He felt the air coalesce and compress around him, and there was a sudden thunderous boom followed by absolute, cloying silence. He'd broken the sound barrier.
He hit the angel.
It rolled back from the space it occupied, curling around in the impact. He felt his hands plunge into the red sphere to the wrists, and a great crack opened in it. He pulled his hands out, put his palms on it, and pushed. The angel's body spasmed, and it rolled over onto its back, and came crashing to the ground. He wedged his fingers into the already closing imperfection in the sphere, feeling it compress around his grip, the edges razor-sharp. Before it could close he pulled, and there was a horrid, churning breaking sound. The thing cried out almost pitiably, its scream on every frequency at once, rattling his teeth. The core came apart with a series of tearing pops, cracked neatly in half. The moment the pieces were separated, it went dark, coal black, and the angel was silenced.
He stood on it for a moment, panting. It relaxed under him, seemed to soften, and rolled onto its side, dead. He lifted up to avoid being carried with it, and stood on nothing for a moment, stunned at what he'd done. A single thought jerked him from his reverie.
Asuka.
He raced to the Eva's side, and fumbled along the back of its neck. When he couldn't find the hatch for the entry plug, he put his hands under it and rolled the Eva onto its side in a single motion. Somehow, the last time he'd done this, he'd missed the emergency ejection switch. It was buried under the heavy plate that shielded the plug, a handle that had to be turned and pulled to relieve the pressure and eject the plug. He turned it and yanked, unintentionally pulling it completely free, wires and bits of metal trailing after it. The plug came loose in a single hissing motion, ramming sideways from the Eva's neck. He clambered up the side, pulled the hatch free, and pushed through the sluice of link control liquid that came rushing out.
He almost said Asuka, but instead said, "Miss? Are you-"
Her crimson nerve clips clattered against his chest.
"Get out!" she screamed, rising from the seat, hands balled into fists. "Leave me alone!"
"I-"
"Out!"
He blinked, and then fled, racing out of the plug and into the sky. His hand's didn't hurt anymore, but he felt a sting all the same.
When Misato arrived, thankfully driven in a staff car this time, Asuka was sitting next to Unit One, her forearms resting on her knees, drawn up to her chest. She looked away, her eyes unfocused and distant. Misato walked over to her slowly and, wincing, sat down in the rubble beside her. Asuka didn't look up or acknowledge her, and so she just waited. A medical team rushed towards them, and Misato waved them off with a hand. She resisted the urge to throw her arm around the girl, knowing better than that from hard-earned experience. Instead, she sat until Asuka's breathing slowed, and she started stealing glances at Misato from the corner of her eye.
"Let's go home."
"No."
Misato blinked. "What?"
"I want to use the simulator."
"But-"
"Now," Asuka growled.
"Asuka," said Misato, "You can't hold this against yourself-"
"I'm not!" she screeched, spinning on her heels to face Misato. "I was winning, and that showboating glory-hound stole it from me!"
Misato wearily stood up. She knew when the girl was likely to surrender and when she was not. Right now, Asuka needed to be humored. Misato would shield her the best she could, but the truth was she failed, and was nearly killed. Misato's own career was up for grabs, and if another angel attacked before Unit One could be repaired, it might not matter. She said none of these things as she took the towel one of the medics offered and put it around Asuka's shoulders, to warm her and to wipe some of the gunk off of her.
Shinji came trotting up, and wisely averted his eyes from Asuka's plugsuit-clad form. Misato was stunned to see her cover herself with the towel as if she were naked, rather than her usual brazen defiance of the suit's body-hugging indecency. She shuffled along next to Misato as Shinji reached them, pointedly staring at her feet as though he were averting his eyes from royalty.
"I came as fast as I could, they just let us out of-"
"Young man," said Misato. "I told you to stay put."
"I did!"
Misato couldn't help but smirk.
"We're setting up a field command center here while we put up a perimeter around that thing," Misato gestured at the looming corpse of the angel, "There's a fresh set of clothes in the back of the car. Will you go get it?"
The command unit, a heavily modified RV, came rolling up, and as it disgorged a group of agents, Misato led Asuka inside. Having cleared the interior, she helped Asuka peel off the wet plugsuit and step into the shower. Shinji was standing outside, his back deliberately turned from the entire vehicle, holding Asuka's clothes in his hands. Misato limped around to his side and took them from him.
"You can go home, if you want. I think we're going to be a while."
Shinji shrugged. "School's out. I don't have much to do. I can help out."
"You're not really supposed to be here."
He shrugged and his shoulders slumped a little.
"Go get a box of chocolate. I used to buy Asuka a box of chocolates when she was having a bad day."
"What kind?"
"Oh," said Misato, "there was this little shop she liked, Fausbender and Rausch. It doesn't matter, you can't get that stuff here. Just find something."
He nodded. "I'll see what I can do."
As he trotted off, Misato dropped off Asuka's change of clothes, and came back outside. She could hear construction vehicles pulling up, and reflected on the strangeness of dissecting an alien monster with a backhoe. It was probably best not to think about it. She spotted Ritsuko, fiddling with some piece of the Evangelion. It was a canister with a grip handle on one end, striped with black and yellow for caution. Ritsuko swabbed something from the grip with a cotton swab and slipped it into a little canister, and then pocketed it.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Ritsuko said brightly. "How is she?"
"Like you'd expect."
"Ouch."
"We're going to be running some simulations later. You in?"
"I'll need coffee."
"Yeah," said Misato. "Join the club."
Gendo Ikari hunched over his desk and stared down Yoshida as he placed a camera on the broad expanse of his desk. He flicked his gaze from the camera to Yoshida and back again, and waited in silence for the explanation.
"Some kind got a clear picture near the school. I had the camera confiscated. It's contained."
"Excellent."
There was a buzz and the office door opened. Akagi came in, nervously palming a small cylinder in her right hand. Yoshida gave Gendo a knowing look and left without further comment, having delivered his report on the day's events. Ritsuko waited for him to leave and then gently set the container on his desk. It took every ounce of his concentration not to snatch it from her. He considered it, so small, with a screw on lid like any pill bottle. He could see the swab inside, leaning against the wall.
"Begin extracting it immediately."
She nodded, and turned to leave without comment.
"When you are finished, be in your apartment."
She shuddered, try as she might to repress it, and a thin smile crept across his face. He waited until she had departed to flick the switch that remotely locked his door. A circle of light appeared around him and his desk, and he waited patiently as it began to blink off-white, waiting for the connection to be made. It turned blue, and a shimmering, transparent image of Keel appeared in front of him, at the other end of an illusory conference table.
"Well?"
"Yes," Gendo said, a bit of hunger edging into his voice.
"Excellent. Has he taken the bait?"
"More than taken it. The hook is set. The Second has found a use."
"I see. I will call off the next attack, then. In all likelihood, her incompetence would have done the job for us, anyway."
"Indeed," said Gendo.
"You will of course send us samples of the material for the hybrid project."
"Of course. Akagi is preparing it for you now."
"Very good," said Keel, and then he vanished.
Misato should have felt some relief that Asuka had fallen asleep in the car. It meant a brief reprieve from her glares. The girl's head was resting on the window, and she was snoring lightly. Misato almost thought it funny, and would have been smirking but for the butterflies in her stomach. A bad thing had happened today, and it was weighing on her. When she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building, swarming as it was with Section 2 agents, she felt ill-at-ease. Thankfully, Asuka woke up on her own.
"What?" she said, dully.
"We're home. Come on."
Silently, Asuka got up and shuffled along beside her. Ten hours in the simulator after the day's stresses had wiped her out. Surprisingly, her scores and performance had improved ever so slightly as the night wore on, until fatigue took its toll. Misato helped her up the stairs and for once, she didn't snap at the presumption. When they arrived in the apartment proper, Asuka ignored the kitchen and wobbled straight into her room. As she rolled, still in her clothes, onto her sleeping mat, Misato knelt down beside her and unplugged her alarm clock.
Shinji was in the kitchen.
"I turned off her alarm. Let her sleep in tomorrow. Will you pick up her schoolwork?"
"Sure," he shrugged. "Want something to eat?"
"No," Misato sighed. "Just a beer."
Shinji eye her warily as she went to the fridge, took out a can of beer, and cracked it open. Her eyes fell on the box on the table. She blinked. Fausbender and Rausch.
"Shinji," she said between pulls on her beer, "Where did you get that?"
He adjusted his glasses. "I am in reality Superman. I flew to Germany, bought Asuka a box of chocolates, and flew back just in time to sneak in here before anyone saw me."
Misato eyed him. She did her best to keep her lips tightly pressed together, but the laugh escaped anyway, and she almost dropped her beer can. Shinji smirked.
"You'd better watch that," Misato sighed. "I don't think Asuka wants to hear the S-word anytime soon."
"If you say so," said Shinji, a little gloomily.
"You should get to bed. I didn't say you could have the day off."
Shinji shrugged, and left her alone in the kitchen.
You have been reading
Last Child of Krypton: Redux
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Chapter Five: One Clear Shot